


Even If the Bombs Go Off the Sun Will Still Be Shining

by mmwhatchasay



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence (eventually), Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Multi, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, don't take this too seriously it's just these nerds running around being idiots, l solves crime, light kills people, ryuk is still an apple-eating homewrecker, this follows the main series but will break off from that eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3975151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmwhatchasay/pseuds/mmwhatchasay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not-so-fluffy soulmate au where the name of your soulmate is tattooed somewhere on your body, which makes things rather easy for a mass murderer with a Death Note.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll warn you: this has been sitting in my documents for a while, just itching to be written, so regard this fic the same way you'd regard self-indulgent Lawlight-shipping word vomit. 
> 
> Title from "Cave In" by Owl City
> 
> Find me on tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/beyondbirhtday

月

Light Yagami wakes up with a burning pain in his hip.

He doesn't even need to make the effort of opening his eyes to know what it is. This wasn't what he’d consider a random occurrence - his mark had given him trouble in the past. But the fiery stinging was new.  Carefully, so not to rustle his torso too much, Light stands and makes his way to his mirror.

Usually, through his white sleeping shirt, Light can’t quite make out the shapes of the pale words on his torso. But today, with wide eyes, he can clearly see ‘L Lawliet’ in a deep, glowing red through the white cotton. This - this was definitely new.

Apprehensive, Light lifts his shirt, and stares down at the words. Each letter burned the color of fresh blood, and looked just about as painful as they felt. He prods at the first ‘L’ gently, and grits his teeth at the rush of pain. Somewhere downstairs, he hears his mother calling for him.

“I’ll be down in just a second, Mom,” he replies, doing his best to hide the waiver in his voice and pulling the shirt over his head. Quickly, Light makes his way into the bathroom and takes a roll of gauze out of the medicine cabinet and wraps it around his hips a few times in an attempt to hide the glowing letters. It hurts, God, it hurts, but it gets the job done and effectively hides his mark. It only takes him another minute or so to pull on his school uniform and fix his hair.

It takes Light a few extra moments to make his way downstairs, the slightly-too-tight gauze hindering his movement some. When he does, belatedly, arrive downstairs, his mother is waiting for him, apple in her waiting hands and smile on her face. He takes the apple and returns the smile as he bites into it, taking note of his mother’s own mark, the neatly written Kanji scrawled across her ring finger. 夜神 総一郎. _Soichiro Yagami._

“Have a good day at school, Light! Work hard!” his mother says in dismissal, placing a gentle kiss on her son’s cheek before retreating to the kitchen. Light wipes it away and leaves through the front door, the image of his mother’s mark stuck in his mind.

The soulmate mark was something everyone had; it was the norm. It wasn't uncommon to be walking down the street and see people littered with names. On their hands, their wrists, their arms, sometimes on their neck or faces. The girls in his class chattered excitedly about the names on their bodies. The boys griped about being tied down. Despite being so normal, it seemed like it was all anyone talked about.

And despite the excitement and fascination around the world about the soulmate marks, they remained somewhat mysterious. How did they get there? Why are they there? Who, or what, decides the soulmate match?

Light had never heard of a soulmate mark burning, though. As he steps into the subway car, he recites all he knows about it in his head.

_The soulmate mark is the name of your pre-destined soulmate, written somewhere on a person’s body. It is usually in said soulmate's handwriting. The soulmate mark appears on your 16th birthday, usually on a wrist, hand, or arm. It starts out pale,  nearly invisible, but when your fate begins to intertwine with your soulmate’s, it begins to become more pronounced. When a person’s soulmate dies, the mark reverts back to its original pale appearance._

He thinks back to when he first saw his father’s soulmate mark. Light was quite young, maybe six or seven, and had seen a bit of ink poking out from his father’s jacket sleeve.

“Dad? What’s that?” Light had pointed to his father’s wrist. “Do you have a tattoo?”

His father had chuckled. “No, son. That’s my soulmate mark. You should have learned about it in school.” He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the full message. Light read it. Sachiko Yagami.

“Of course,” his father had said, looking down at it with a fond smile, “it didn't always say Yagami. It was your mother’s maiden name until I married her. Then it changed.”

“Where’s mine? I want to know who my soulmate is!” Light had said excitedly, checking his wrists and arms and pouting when he came up with nothing. Where was his mark?

His father chuckled. “When you're older, on a special birthday, you’ll get your mark, son.”

He still remembered said ‘special birthday’ - falling just below the two year mark, now - and waking up with the thought I get my mark today! running through his head. He’d woken up extra early for the occasion, and spent a good ten minutes checking every bit of exposed skin for his mark. He’d frowned when he came up blank. _Where was it?_

It wasn't until later, when he had stepped out of the shower and was wrapping a towel around his waist that he saw it; huge, thick lettering, written in what he was almost positive was English, though even with his exceptional comprehension of the language he could not read. The two words were in a blocky, hard-to-read font, that curved slightly at his hipbone and took up nearly half his lower torso. It took him a while to make out what the letters even were. _L Lawliet._

When Light had gone downstairs, his parents and his sister, Sayu, were waiting expectantly. The two girls overlapped each other in questions and his father had been smiling proudly, saying something about how Light was becoming a man.

Slowly, he had lifted his shirt, to reveal his mark. All three had fallen silent, burning metaphorical holes into the name. His mother and Sayu didn’t know even a word of English, and his father’s understanding of the language was average, at the very best - they were even more confused than he was.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sayu had asked, prodding at the mark with her finger, before their mother could shush her. He’d flinched at the words as his father stared at the words, the look on his face giving Light his very first taste of what the rest of the world would think of his unusual mark; weird, unsightly, _ugly_. Then, he'd yanked his shirt down, the action a bit too forceful to be considered casual, and left the house without a word.

16-year-old Light had seen the overwhelming disappointment written on his face as he went.

From his place on the bus, Light fought a grimace at the memories, the burning at his side just another reminder of how he was different. Odd. _Weird._

It wasn't like Light wasn't used to standing out; he could say with the utmost confidence that he was the best, most diligent and hardworking student in Tokyo. Maybe even the entirety of Japan. He'd remained at the top of his class since primary school, always overachieving, always doing his best. Never a bad mark, even in the most insignificant of classes, like Physical Education or Home Economics. He'd even been the Junior Tennis Champion a few years back.

His physical beauty made him something of an oddity, too. He didn’t consider himself particularly vain, but the whispers he heard as he strolled through the hallways at school with grace that rivaled true royalty could not be ignored. Auburn hair that framed his face perfectly, never a strand out of place; eyes slender like like sliced almonds and the color of burning amber; skin the hue of honey melting off a spoon, showering him constantly in the Light for which he was named. Or at least, that was what he heard.

Regardless, he tried not to let it go to his head.

Light stepped off the train when it reached his stop and began the short walk to school. Checking his watch - a present from his father - absentmindedly, he saw he was running slightly later than usual, and picked up his pace a bit. He stopped for a moment to glance at one of the many large TV screens that decorated Tokyo, which was broadcasting the beginnings of a hostage situation involving some pre-schoolers and a handful of teachers. On the screen parallel, a female newscaster reported on an opening homicide report on a man found covered in blood. Another, the news of the arrest on murder charges. Light looked at it all, not masking a frown.  

 _Day in, and day out,_ he thinks bitterly, thoroughly disgusted. _The same thing over and over again._

 _Ridiculous,_ a phantom voice agrees, and Light casts it aside as the whistle from the wind.

_This world...is rotten._

He blinks once to clear his mind, replaces his scowl with a content smile, and continues on.

He arrives at the front entrance of his school within a handful of minutes, and makes his way inside, heading in the direction of his locker. In the buzz of noise around him, Light hears the mention of soulmate marks, which immediately brings the hot pain in his hip to the front of his mind. He puts on his most dazzling 'happy perfect little genius' smile while biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

\--

Near the end of the school day, Light finds his mind wandering.

It was his last class of the day, English, and he was stuck listening as the teacher washed, rinsed and repeated the same quotes from the same poems over and over and over, both in English and Japanese.

Despite the passage of several hours since he woke up, the burning in his torso hadn't stopped; if anything, it had gotten worse. All day, Light was driven crazy by the constant blazing at his side, never ceasing for even a moment. As the day progressed, he had started thinking it could be seen and heard, even through the tape and his jacket and over the noise of the school. His paranoia had him on edge, and he was aware of the way his body had partially curled in on itself in an attempt to mask the issue.

Beside him, a few girls chatter amongst themselves, discussing silly girls' things and what not. A group of guys complain about wasting money on a movie. A stray boy taps away on his gaming system. Even with all the noise, the pain was still at the front of his mind.

Rubbing his temples in a feeble attempt to ward off a headache, Light barely hears his teacher addressing him.

"Yagami? Would you please translate this sentence into English?"

Gritting his teeth in anticipation for the rush of pain sure to come, Light stands slowly, grimacing inwardly, and flips through the pages in his book. He quickly scans over the sentence, and it takes only a moment to find the right English words.

"Follow the teachings of God. Then the blessing of the seas will become bountiful, and there will be no storms." His articulation is perfect, the accent that accompanies his voice when he speaks his native language nearly non-existent.

The teacher spends a moment praising his flawless translation, and Light sits again, fighting a brief dizzy spell.

Around him, people continue to chatter, the volume seeming to rise at each tick of the clock. It was very near the end of the last period of the day, but yet the teacher continued on, speaking in broken and flawed English about rapidly decreasing animal populations.

 _Does he even care that no one’s listening? Or is he just that_ stupid?

Casting his glance to the window to his left, Light watches as a few birds fly by. Leaves were swept across the ground by the wind. Sunlight filters in through the spaces between buildings. He settles his gaze on the way the light seemed to dance as the wind blew a large tree, casting shadows across the cement ground.

If Light was any less perceptive than he was, he might have missed it. But, with his impeccable eyesight, he catches the motion of something small and black slowly fluttering to the ground, falling as if in slow motion.

 _A notebook?_ he asks himself, watching as the thing lands on a patch of grass. _How odd._ Had someone thrown in from a window? Perhaps it had been dropped from a ways away, and the wind had carried here. Today’s gusts were certainly strong enough.

Light’s watch of the notebook is only interrupted by the bell signalling the end of the school day, and he stands, silently hissing at the sudden pain the motion caused. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder and casting the notebook - which was still there - one more glance, he leaves the classroom.

Several minutes later, when Light had gathered all of his homework for the day and left the building, he casually searches the area for the notebook, and finds it exactly where it had landed, partially hidden by the shade from one of the taller parts of the school. Looking around briefly, he bends forward and picks it up.

As his fingers come in contact with the black binding of the book, the pain at his side flares up again, and Light _screams_ , loud and fierce and pained. God, the _pain_. The burning at his hip was so blinding, so white hot and _everywhere_ that he falls to his knees, the sound of his cry reverberating off the walls of the school. A few students look at him oddly but don’t stop to help, obviously wondering what on Earth the brightest student in the school - the country - was doing on the ground, screaming. The majority of his focus was on the fact that he can hear the letters at his side sizzling, like water on a curling iron.

The slight pressure of his dress shirt and jacket on his mark is agonizing, and desperately he claws at his uniform to get it out of the way. With trembling hands he undoes the buttons on his jacket, and roughly untucks the white shirt from his pants. The words _L Lawliet_ glitter and shine, as if freshly branded onto his skin. The last of his breath leaves his lungs, and his scream lapses into silence.

After a few moments, the pain began to recede, the red and burning leaving the mark slowly, like how cool molasses drips from a jar. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the pain leaves entirely, the only evidence of something changing at all the both darkened and thickened letters on his hipbone. The bolded black stands out against Light’s skin, and he eyes the changes with both fascination and hesitancy. He touches the single letter L gently, prods at it, and finds there is no pain. Still clutched in his free hand is the notebook.

He sets the thing down gently, suddenly apprehensive of looking away from it. It was the thing that had triggered what had to be the most painful few minutes of his life. Not letting his eyes move from the notebook for even a moment, Light tucks in his shirt and rebuttons his uniform jacket. Once he is more presentable, he looks at the words on the front of it. The words are in English.

Death Note, the cover reads, printed in white ink against the black cover in a font he can't place.

Light chuckles, rather amused by the whole idea despite the scary effect it had on him, and flips the notebook open to the first page. _How to use it_ , the top of the page boasts, written in the same font as the cover. Below are several bullet’s followed by a sentence or two. Light only bothers to read this first.

_The person whose name is written in this note shall die._

He has to read it again, to confirm the words on the page. The person whose name is written in this note shall die? Light huffs, significantly less amused, and shuts the book with finality. He sets it back on the ground gently, leaving the words Death Note facing towards the sky.

 _Stupid_ , he thinks, rolling his eyes and turning around.

What a sick idea for a joke. Death was not something to be taken so lightly. Briefly, he thinks back to this morning, to the hundreds of reports of death and murder being broadcast. So many people died each day. Why would that be funny?

 _It’s hardly different from a chain letter,_ he decides, scoffing at the idea of a notebook of death again. He repeats the first “rule” in his head again. _The person whose name is written in this note shall die._ C’mon!

Light rolls his eyes and picks the thing up again.

Even when briskly walking to make up for the time spent on the Death Note, Light ends up missing his train. So with a resigned sigh he walks home, the notebook tucked into the waistband of his khakis. Perhaps he could use the exercise.

At least the burning had stopped.

But at this point in time, that was hardly his main concern. The focus of Light’s brilliant mind was on the notebook, heavy against his side like a weight. Even without anything physical hindering him, Light found it difficult to walk at an appropriate pace.

_Something must be the matter with me._

\--

The rules of the notebook seem to stare up at Light as he reads them all, silently challenging him, trying to call his attention over the sounds of his television set. _Try me. Try me!_ He ignores it, and continues to read.

_This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person’s face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected._

“How considerate,” Light mutters with an eye roll. The pranksters were at least thoughtful.

_If the cause of death is written within 40 human seconds of writing the person’s name, it will happen._

_If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack._

_After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds._

“Hmm,” Light says aloud to himself, mulling over the rules. “You can let someone suffer or kill them peacefully.” Interesting. “Pretty intricate, I have to say. It’s alright, I guess.” Moving from his position at his desk, Light makes his way towards his bed and unceremoniously flops down, splaying his arms and legs out.

“Write their name and they die, huh...” he muses, thinking the possibility over. The chances were essentially none. Why was he even considering it? “So stupid!” he announces, and whether the statement is to himself or to the Death Note is debatable.

But the temptation was so strong to try it, just once...Light was unnerved by it. Despite the sheer impossibility of it, Light considers the idea that there was something supernatural within the notebook that pulled people in, that peaked a person’s curiosity to the point of insanity.

Regardless, he finds himself at his desk yet again, pen in hand and staring down at the first page with a calculating look on his face.

 _Wait a minute,_ he tells himself, and he chews idly on the cap of the pen. He immediately pulls it from his mouth. _If someone actually dies...Will I be a murderer?_

 _No way,_ the rational part of him reasons, scolding him mentally. _It’s impossible. All in good fun._

The sound of his television rouses him from his thoughts. Light looks to the TV. _“It has been several hours since the assailant who killed six people yesterday at a busy shopping district in Shinjuku took a day care centre, filled with both children and teachers, hostage this morning. We can confirm that the perpetrator is forty-two-year-old Kurou Otoharada. Negotiations have thus far proven unsuccessful, but the police will continue contact.”_ The name flashes across the screen, with a face underneath it. Light studies the face closely, memorizing it. The reporter sets up a transition and the camera shifts to two different newscasters.

Light makes up his mind, and carefully writes down the name. _Kurou Otoharada._

“A heart attack in forty seconds, huh?” Light says aloud, and lets his eyes stray to his watch, the sounds of the newscasters discussing the hostages and the quiet, rhythmic ticking of his watch the only sounds filling the room.

At the forty second mark, Light casually lifts his gaze to the television screen, and sees the newscasters discussing the situation calmly. He sighs, as if disappointed (but honestly, what had he expected?) and shuts the notebook.

 _Oh well, nothing happened._ Honestly, what was he expecting? Light had known the whole thing was nothing more than a silly prank from the beginning - why had he tested it thinking any differently? At least it was done now, and the temptation to use the notebook was gone. He flips the switch on his desktop lamp and shuts it off, reaching for the television remote next. He looks once more at his watch. It’d been over a minute, now.

 _“Just a minute!”_ the female newscaster announces, and the image on the screen flickers to the daycare center, where two teachers and several small children were running out. Light feels his eyes widen at the sight. _“The hostages are coming out! They all seem to be unharmed!”_

Light watches incredulously as the hostages are swept out of the way, and many heavily armed policemen storm the building. He leans forward to get a better look, and has to grip the desk until his knuckles are white to keep from falling in disbelief.

 _“Has the suspect been arrested?”_ The newscaster on the scene only pauses for a moment. _“Yes! We have just received word that_ Kurou _Otoharada has died inside the daycare center!”_

Light hears the gasp escape his lips. He’s dead? _Coincidence, it’s gotta be!_

_“The suspect is dead! One hostage claims that he just ‘collapsed to the ground’!”_

“Dead?!” Light says incredulously, voice practically a hiss. He slams open the notebook and eyes the single name on the page. Suddenly collapsed. The first rule springs into his mind. _A heart attack?_

_No way. It’s not possible. Y-You can’t kill someone just by writing their name! It’s absurd! It defies every notion of logic and reason. And yet..._

“And yet,” Light repeats aloud. “He’s dead.”

 _Coincidence,_ something deep inside of him says nastily, as if disgusted by his lack of reasonable thinking. _It’s got to be a coincidence-_

“Light!”

The teenager physically jumps at the call of his name, but forces himself to calm down. Mom. “It’s nearly 6:30, Light! Don’t you have your prep courses tonight?”

“Yeah, Mom,” he replies, hiding the waiver taking quite a bit more effort than he’s willing to admit. “I’m getting ready now.”

Quickly, Light takes his bookbag from the floor, placing the Death Note inside with the carefulness he might use to handle a small child. He looks at the cover once more as he zips up his bag.

If it’s real, it’s worth testing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll warn you: this has been sitting in my documents for a while, just itching to be written, so regard this fic the same way you'd regard self-indulgent Lawlight-shipping word vomit.
> 
> Title from "Cave In" by Owl City
> 
> Find me on tumblr at http://beyondbirhtday.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back again with a new chapter. light dabbles in murder (and L makes his stunning entrance !)

月

 

Light’s prep course had gone per usual - boring, unhelpful, and overall leaving him with a looming sense of superiority over the rest of the world that made nasty thoughts appear in his head.

 _I need to test the notebook again_ , he thinks, repositioning his bag on his shoulder as he walked.  _That’s a given. I need to consider Kurou Otoharada’s death a coincidence. Nothing more. In the respect of testing, it should definitely be another criminal._

 _But..._  another part of him begins, always rationalizing.  _It can’t be someone particularly famous. If they’re too well-known, the death could be hushed up, and that would hardly do me any good. An immediate result would be best, without the threat of it not being visible. They’d need to die in front me._

_No. Someone dying when I’m around or someone I know would be dangerous. A stranger, then?_

It was only about eight o’clock or so, and several people Light recognized from school were milling about. He watches, disgusted, as a student from his own high school pesters another, younger boy into giving him a few thousand yen for an arcade outing. His gaze burns holes into the perpetrator’s - Sudou, if he remembered correctly - face. Laughing at his collection, Sudou walks away. Light’s fingers itch to write his name, watch as Sudou spent his last moments writhing as his heart essentially exploded, but his earlier thoughts stop him.

_Why should I worry? No one would give a damn if one or two people like him died._

As he continues walking, Light hears silly girl chatter somewhere nearby. “Come to this party with me, Maki! There will be lots of cute boys!” The giggles the girls share sound like nails on a chalkboard in Light’s ears.

“ _Damn it_ ,” another voice growls, voice raising an octave at each syllable. “My mom is so  _useless_! Why the hell isn’t she here to pick me up?”

Light raises his chin subconsciously, peering down at the people around him with an obvious look of disgust painted on his face. These people were so  _sickening_. They were absolutely useless.

Sometimes, when Light was younger, he had felt almost  _bad_ for the people around him; they were so absolutely oblivious, so stupid to the simplest things. They discussed things that didn’t matter in the slightest, like fashion magazines and pop idols and girls. Did they not have priorities? Were his peers actually  _so stupid_ that they didn’t even understand it?

Back then, Light had tried his hardest not to look too far down at those around him - he accepted that they were inferior to him, both in body and mind. They were like helpless puppies, always so excited and blind to what was important. Now, however, Light can find no such sympathy, willingly letting his blatant disgust for them all show. He hopes every single  _one_ of them knew how stupid, how useless they were; how absolutely  _beneath_ him they were. Eventually, thinking that they don’t even deserve his gaze upon them, Light lifts his eyes to the sky, knowing even the stars and whatever might be among them weren’t above him.

 _I’d do society a favor by killing them_ , something nasty snarls inside his mind, and Light is not even startled by the harshness of the voice. He absolutely agrees.

“Hey, bitch!” The sound of a nasally voice followed by the sound of several motorcycle engines revving pulls Light from his thoughts. He glances over his shoulder to find several motorcyclists surrounding a young girl, around his age, maybe a bit younger. “Wanna come and play with us, baby?”

Light grimaces and enters a nearby store, feigning the image of perusing the limited selection of magazines available. The conversation is still discernible through the open windows of the shop.

“You’ve got a beauty there, Taku!” a crony says with a laugh, eyeing the girl up and down.

“I’m Takuo Shibuimaru,” the obvious ringleader introduces, and this couldn’t have gone better if Light had scripted it himself. Removing the Death Note from his bag, he places it inside a magazine and begins writing with a spare pen.  _Takuo Shibuimaru_. As an afterthought, about ten centimeters away, he adds  _accident_. Then, he watches.

“C’mon and join me, pretty girl!”

“I-I don’t think so.”

“She doesn’t  _think so_!”

“How cute!”

Light’s eyes widen only slightly as Takuo produces a metal pipe and holds it tightly against the girl’s throat. He averts his gaze to his watch as his cronies begin pulling at the girl’s clothes, undoing her belt. Only a few more seconds, now.

As his watch  _ticked_ at the forty-second mark, Light eyes Takuo carefully.  _Now, what will happen?_

As if by magic, the girl manages to get away, darting across the street just as the traffic begins to pick up again. Takuo revs his engine and speeds off after her, and only by sheer miracle the girl makes it safely onto the pavement. Light doesn’t turn away as the large truck comes in contact with Takuo’s motorcycle, nor does he flinch at the way the blood splatters on the windshield. The only thought in his mind is -

_The Death Note is real!_

 

\--

 L

 

L wakes up one day with an off feeling in his gut, something like discomfort coating his insides in a particularly unpleasant way.

It was one of his rarer days - one where he slept, thanks to Wammy's  _concern_ and a dangerous number of sleeping pills -  and the feeling of burning covering the surface of his skin was definitely something that set off alarm bells. Perhaps, he wonders meekly, somehow his hiding place has been discovered, and he is currently on fire?

No, that isn’t right; the fire is isolated to a very small section of his body - less than one percent, he is sure - in the area on his left wrist, where the three Kanji he knows so well rest, as they always have since the day the detective had turned sixteen. He imagines the characters as they are on his wrist. ‘Night’ ‘god’ and ‘moon’. 夜神月

It’s only then L decides to open his eyes and truly investigate, and he comes to a conclusion instantaneously - his soulmate mark is definitely the source of the burning. If the physical pain wasn’t enough of an clue, the fiery red of the usually pale Kanji certainly was. It was equal parts fascinating and annoying.

Moving from his place on the single bed, L takes a moment to pop his limbs, and walks over to the lone computer resting on the floor. Once he’s settled, he presses the intercom button.

“Watari,” he begins, using Wammy's alias in the name of security, and rubbing idly at his wrist. His fascination was very quickly leaving and pain was filling the place it once held. “A cooling pad, please?”

“Of course, L.” It takes exactly six point four seconds for Wammy - Watari, he reminds himself through the haze of pain - to enter the darkened room, two point nine for him to cross the room to where L is crouched in his preferred position, and one point two for him to extend his hand. L offers his wrist, and the old man stares at the glowing red marks, calculating.

“Any thoughts?” L hopes he was masking his absolute lack of an explanation well. If Watari notices, he doesn’t give any indication.

“I...haven’t a clue,” the older man admits, moustache fidgeting slightly as he frowns. “When did this begin?”

L only has to think for a moment. “When I woke up, precisely...” he casts a glance at the ticking clock on his computer screen. It was just past six in the morning; he had slept about two hours. “One hundred and forty nine seconds ago. The pain was present beforehand.”

“The pain?”

“As if I am on fire.”

Watari taps his chin for a moment, still carefully examining L’s pale wrist. “I have never heard of this happening before. Perhaps something regarding Moon has happened?”

L considers it, chewing idly on the tip of his thumb. “ _When a person’s soulmate dies, the mark reverts back to it’s original pale appearance_.” It’s a rule he knows very well - he knows them  _all,_ actually - but this one was of particular interest to the detective.

The idea of a soulmate mark had always been something of a security risk to L; there was someone out there, by the name of Night God Moon (read: Moon Yagami) walking around with the detective’s biggest vulnerability; his most well-kept secret on his wrist. It unnerved L to no end.

He, of course, had obsessively (as Watari put it; he preferred the term  _thoroughly_ ) researched Moon, discovering that he resided in Japan - more specifically, Tokyo - and that his father was the Chief of the NPA, which made it very plausible for them to run into each other at one point or another.

The boy was a genius, perhaps even on L’s level, and he went through each class without a mark below one hundred. As L was stalking ( _researching_ ) the boy, he’d turned up a picture of him in his third year in high school. He was attractive in a ridiculously perfect sort of way - he was practically the picture of a perfect person. Perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect life. It was odd that such a person was assigned to be L’s  _soulmate_. A subordinate, perhaps, in later years, once Moon had graduated university and filled his inevitable place in the NPA. That’s what makes today so utterly suspicious.

What was so special about today? November 23rd isn’t anything particularly special. In America, it was nearing Thanksgiving day. Students aren’t even on winter vacation yet. There is absolutely  _nothing_ particular about this day. L prickles in annoyance at the lack of a plausible solution.

Watari places a hand on L’s shoulder, rousing him from his thoughts. L bends his head in apology. “This situation is...less than preferable,” he admits, tracing the Kanji with his finger. The heat singes his fingertips, and he pulls away.

Watari pulls the cooling pad - which L had nearly forgotten about - out of it’s paper wrapper, and secures it over the three characters. L is more than disappointed when it offers no immediate relief. The young man’s caretaker chuckles at the scowl etched onto said man’s face as he scratches at the pad, annoyed. “It doesn’t feel any better. It just feels sticky and heavy.” His deductive abilities are already down point one three percent (perhaps point one five? Troubling.)

Watari decides that L is acting much like the child he had first brought into his orphanage all those years ago. He gently stills the young detective’s incessant scratching with a smile.

“Give it time,” he replies, using that ‘wise old man who know’s what he’s talking about’ voice that L seems to hate so much. He pulls his hand away and scowls further. “Would you like anything else?”

“Raspberry cheesecake, please. Do we have any vanilla-no, blackberry ice cream to go with it? I’m in a mood for berries.” L’s mouth waters just slightly at the prospect of it. “Please.”

Watari nods silently and exits the room, and L takes the opportunity to scratch at the pad on his arm obsessively. Still, it offers no relief from the burning.

As he’s reaching out towards his keyboard, L’s arm seizes up suddenly, the burning seeming to multiply. A scream rips its way out of his throat and his legs give out underneath him, sending the detective crashing onto his side. Blindly, he grasps around for his burning arm, and rips off the pad once his fingertips find purchase.

He gasps at the state of his mark; the characters, that had been a noticeable red before, were quite literally  _glowing_ , looking as if they had just been burned into his skin with a cattle prod. Despite his screaming, L can quite literally  _hear_  his skin sizzling and hissing as it burns. Desperately, he reaches with his functioning hand towards the microphone in front of him.

"Watari," he snarls, gritting his teeth against another round of shouting. " _Watari!_ "

The old man is in the room and by L's side in a second (give or take a few decimal places), gripping the younger man's shoulder to keep him from moving as he inspects his mark. L begins panting as he fights to stay still.

The fight in him gives out not long after Watari begins holding him down. Through the haze of his ringing ears and Watari's chanting of " _are you okay? can you speak? what happened?_ " L can recognize that the pain is, slowly, receding. Taking a steadying breath, he sits up, staring down at the marks on his arm.

The color noticeably changes; going from bloody, hot red to dark crimson to, finally, midnight black. The last of the pain disappears, leaving L absolutely bewildered.

"My God, L, what  _happened_?" Watari demands, staring at the younger man with the same look of manic confusion L himself wore.

"I...haven't the slightest idea," he admits breathlessly, eyes never leaving the Kanji on his arm. "I, myself, have never been branded, but I would imagine  _this_ is that same pain, multiplied tenfold." He finally lifts his eyes from his mark.

"I am going to check up on Moon, as this almost certainly is in relation to him. I would also expect to pay a visit to Japan soon, so I will keep an eye on any suspicious activity going on there. I have a very strong feeling me and Moon will be meeting somewhere in the near future."

"Of course. Do you need anything else, L?"

L taps his chin thoughtfully, for a moment. "Along with that cheesecake discussed earlier, perhaps a glass of ice water."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated (and fuel my fragile ego)
> 
> follow my tumblr if you'd like more incessant rambling about death note, a la moi 
> 
> http://beyondbirhtday.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surplus of dialogue. tragic lack of plot progression.

月

 

Light is smiling as he walks through the front door of his house, just returning from his prep courses several days after the Takuo Shibuimaru incident.

"You're early, Light," his mother observes, smiling at him from a few feet away. As he shuts the door behind him, lightning cracks loudly, the only reminder of the rain drenching his hair and clothes. Hm. He hadn't noticed.

"Yeah," he replies distantly, mind elsewhere. The notebook in his backpack no longer feels like dead weight; it feels strong and steady, like power in material form. His fingers itch to touch it again.

His mother holds out her hands expectantly. He blanks for a moment, before querying,"the results of the national practice entrance exams?"

"Hurry!"

He unzips his backpack and retrieves the results from inside, fingers briefly trailing over the cover of the Death Note. She snatches the papers from his hands excitedly.

 _Always to the results_ , he thinks boredly. Perhaps he might have been bothered in the past, by her lack of interest about how his day was, or how he was, but it hardly mattered at this point. Now, he just wants to escape to his room.

"Number one again! Oh Light, you really did your best!"

"Of course," he replies calmly, "okay, I'll be studying. Please don't bother me."

"All right," his mother replies as he begins to ascend the stairs. "Do you need anything? Anything at all?"

Light shuts the door against her voice. "No, thank you." His eyes flash down to his backpack, to the notebook.

 _I already have what I want_ , he thinks happily, locking the door and flicking on his desk lamp. Retrieving the notebook from his bag, he flips it open with the utmost care and stares down at the exposed pages.

In neat little lines, starting from the very tops of the margins and filling every space available, are names. At least one hundred on the exposed pages alone, written in Light's careful script, very tidy in appearance. There were more like it; several more, dozens more, all filled to the brim with the names of the rotten, disgusting people Light so despises.

He giggles as he goes from page to page, knowing each and every one of them is good and dead. Murderers, rapists, thieves from every corner of the world. No matter where they are, if their name and face are out there, Light can find them and kill them all. He relishes the thought.

"You seem to like it," a gravelly, amused voice says from behind him.

Startled, Light spins around, looking for the intruder, and locks eyes with what he can only describe as a  _monster_.

Though half of it is cast in the darkness of shadows, what the lightning flashing from the windows reveals is spiky, sharp feathers, a mad, twisted grin, and glowing red eyes. Light screams, much in the fashion he did when first touching the Death Note, and falls from his chair.

The thing takes a few steps closer, revealing how shockingly thin and tall it is. Chains hang from its waist like a belt, and rings and bracelets adorn its long, talon-like claws. Jagged teeth peek out from its wide-lipped grin. At a second glance, the monster looks quite like a clown, albeit a terrifying one.

"Why so shocked?" it asks as it looms over him, grinning. "I'm the Shinigami Ryuk, and that's my notebook you're so attached to." Light stares, heart still in overdrive from the burst of adrenaline.

"From what I just saw," Ryuk continues, red eyes focusing curiously on Light, "you're already fully aware of how special that notebook really is."

Light meets Ryuk's gaze, assessing what he is fairly certain is a 'him'. Blinking a few times, he regains composure and stands, still watching Ryuk.

"A Shinigami...hm." He stands taller, though he's nowhere near meeting the Shinigami's height.

"I'm not shocked, Ryuk," he continues, smiling. "In fact...I've been waiting for you."

"Oh?" the Shinigami replies, still sounding rather amused by the whole ordeal.

"In truth, I didn't think the Shinigami's notebook was real...but, after seeing it's results, I can act with certainty."

"I see." Ryuk smiles a bit wider. "You really surprise me. I've heard of Death Notes getting down to the Human World a few times before. But you're definitely the first to use it to...this extent in just a few days."

"I'm prepared, Ryuk," Light replies casually, sitting down on the edge of his bed. "I used the Death Note knowing it belonged to a Shinigami. And now you're here." Light smiles at Ryuk, but narrows his eyes.

"So, what'll happen to me? Are you going to take my soul?"

Ryuk cocks his head to the side. "What's that about? Is that what you humans have come up with?" He laughs, and the sound is rather unpleasant, grating against Light's eardrums.

"I'm not going to do anything to you."  _That_ peaks Light's interest, and he can't hide the quiet sound of genuine surprise that escapes his lips.

Ryuk continues. "Once a Death Note lands in the Human World, it belongs to the Human World. In other words, that—" with a clawed finger, he points to the notebook, still lying open on Light's desk, "—belongs to you."

Light stands and walks over to his desk, taking it in his hands. "It's mine?"

"If you don't want it, give it to someone else. But I'll have to erase all memories you have of the notebook."

"So there isn't a price for using the Death Note?"

"Well, if anything, there is only the fear and pain humans who have used the Death Note will experience." Ryuk pats the notebook strapped to his side. "And when you die, it will be at my hand, when I write your name in my own Death Note."

His face takes on a rather disturbing quality, looking rather grim for the first time since he appeared. "And don't think for a moment, that any human whose used the Death Note can go to Heaven, or Hell. That's all, really." Ryuk laughs again, face returning to its usual jolly — albeit rather horrifying — expression.

A knock at his bedroom door distracts Light from the conversation.

"Light!" His mother.

"Don't worry, go and get it," Ryuk says. Light pushes the notebook under his bed before answering the door.

"What?" he asks, leaning against the doorframe in an attempt to keep her from peering in.

"I brought you some apples for a snack! They're from our neighbor, how kind!" She looks into the room over his shoulder, and he flinches.

"Why is it so dark in here? You'll ruin your eyesight!" she scolds.

 _What's going on? Mom can't see him?_  he asks himself, nodding a thank you to her as he's handed the apples before shutting and locking the door again.

"That notebook was originally mine," Ryuk says as Light retrieves it from under the bed. "And since you're the only one using it, you're the only one who can see me...Oh, and of course, only you can hear me."

Ryuk takes an apple from the basket Light had set down, and takes a bite. "Tasty. But in other words, the Death Note is a bond between Light the human and Ryuk the Shinigami."

"Let me ask you another question, Ryuk. Why did you chose me?" Light watches, somewhat disgusted, as Ryuk dumps the basket of apples down his throat. "Are you listening?"

"Human World apples are delicious. Juicy, is it?"

"Answer my question," Light tells him, unamused.

"I didn't  _choose_  you," Ryuk replies dryly, finishing off the core of the last apple. "I just dropped the notebook. What, did you think you were chosen because you were smart?"

"No," Light retorts coolly, "I  _know_  I was chosen because my soulmate mark burned the day I found the notebook, and it branded me and became bold once I touched it."

"Look, the soulmate marks are out of even a Shinigami's jurisdiction. I don't know why humans have them. As far as I know, the notebook just happened to fall around here, and you just happened to pick it up."

"Soulmate marks are more powerful than you?"

"I don't know. I didn't drop it here on purpose. The instructions are even in English, the most popular language. I didn't choose you."

"You can't tell me it was just a  _coincidence_ ," Light snaps, but quickly regains composure. "Soulmate marks are predestined at  _birth_. You cannot honestly expect me to believe that this was just  _random_. I'm going to meet whoever L Lawliet is because of the notebook. That's not coincidence, or random. That's  _fate_."

"I  _don't know_. Maybe whatever controls soulmates and soulmate marks made sure the notebook dropped here. I  _don't know_. There's no need to be pissed with me."

"Why did you drop it, then?" Light demands. "And don't tell me it was on accident, after you went through the trouble of writing all those instructions."

"Why'd I drop it? I dropped it because I was  _bored_."

" _Bored_?"

"Shinigami have so much time on their hands. All they do is gamble or nap. And if the others see you studiously writing in the Death Note, they laugh and ask you why you're working so hard.

"Writing the names of other Shinigami doesn't work. But since we live in the Shinigami realm, it's no fun at all to kill people in the Human World! So yeah, I was bored, and I figured it'd be more interesting to come down here myself."

Ryuk reaches out a hand and plucks the notebook from Light's hands. "You sure wrote a lotta names, but why only the cause of death for the guy on the motorcycle?"

Light smiles.  _So you’ve been watching me._  "Without the cause of death written down, they all died of heart attacks. That's the best thing about the Death Note, Ryuk."

"Huh?"

"I can write down the names of criminals, and slowly reduce the number of evil people."

"What's the point?"

"Any fool can figure it out if someone is just 'eliminating the bad guys.' I want the world to know that I exist! That someone is passing righteous judgement on them!" Light wears a grin that rivals Ryuk's own carved-on smile as he thinks about it.

"But...what's the  _point_  in passing judgement? Why do it?"

"I was bored, too," Light replies simply, gazing out the window at the torrential downpour going on just beyond the glass.

"Naturally, I didn't believe it at first — that the Death Note has supernatural powers. But it does. It has a near irresistible pull, to try it at least once." Light pauses; thinks back to the walk home after killing Takuo.

<<

"I-I killed them," he'd whispered, positively shaking. "I killed two people!"

 _Human lives shouldn't be taken so lightly,_  he'd thought desperately,  _robbed with such little care!_

"Do I have the right to judge people like that?" he'd asked gently to himself, shuddering from the cold wind and what he'd done.

 _No_ , another voice had argued viciously, and Light had begun to agree.  _I'm not wrong! I've always thought about this! I was thinking about this just earlier! This world is rotten, and those who are rotten deserve to be killed! Someone has to do it! Someone has to fix things, even if it means sacrificing one's conscience and life!_

>>

Light shakes his head at the memory, but remains deep in thought.  _Even if it were possible for someone else to have picked up the Death Note, would they be able to erase unwanted people from the world? No! But I can!_ Only _I can! With the Death Note, I can change the world!_

Remembering Ryuk and his presence, Light turns to him. "At first, I wrote the names of criminals so that in time, no one would do evil. While those who truly deserved punishment are wiped out with heart attacks, bullies and immoral people are killed with accidents and illness."

The sound of rain stops behind Light, and the sun breaks through the clouds.  _Very fitting,_  he thinks delightedly, and smiles. "Then, the world can truly move in the right direction. And I can create a new world of earnest, kind humans."

"Then you'd be the only one left with a bad personality," Ryuk says pointedly.

Light feels his eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean? I was  _destined_  to do this. The words L Lawliet on my body confirm that. The soulmate mark is never wrong. From birth, I was destined to find the Death Note, meet L Lawliet because of it, and...and become God of the New World with Lawliet by my side!"

Light is positively  _grinning_  as he turns towards the window and looks out at the sunlight streaming from the clouds.

 _L Lawliet_ , he says inside his head, determined,  _together, with you and the Death Note, I will make this world a better place!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor, sweet, delusional light bun.
> 
> (we see the sweet eru next chapter — i promise.)
> 
> ((expect chapter four up between friday-tuesday))
> 
> (((follow my tumblr if you'd like; http://beyondbirhtday.tumblr.com/)))


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for slightly ooc behaviors on both the parts of light and L; i got slightly carried away but decided to roll with it.
> 
> (look at me, keeping a decent update schedule and all. don't hold me to these span-of-two-days updates.)

L

 

Fifty-two confirmed deaths. Seventy-one percent chance that there are more, unaccounted for victims. All heart attacks. All dangerous criminals.

This was exactly the shifty movement in Japan L was expecting, though the sheer scale of the murders (the chance the deaths were accidents was less than one percent, practically negligible) was unusual.

L glances towards the clock on his computer screen and accesses his audio feed from Interpol — listening, always listening — and tunes into the heated exchange between several of the men present.

Coincidence. Terrorism. Warfare. A large organization.

_Interesting, surely, but incorrect._

Murder.

 _Ah_.

A vengeful god? An entity?

 _Not quite_.

Someone mentions L, and the room falls silent, save for quiet whispers and hushed criticisms.

Arrogant individual.

L smiles.

_Correct._

"Time to go," he hums into a tiny microphone, that feeds directly into Watari's ear.

" _L is already involved._ "

Watari's voice seems to boom through the silent room, the old man's clacking shoes giving his entrance quite the dramatic flair. L turns on the audio for the laptop Watari has begun to set up, and waits.

"L has already begun investigating the case."

A buzzing, primarily composed of hushed exclamations of, "Watari?" fills the silence, and L takes the distraction as a chance to scour over the faces of the men in the room.

"Please be silent. L will now speak."

And, L speaks. "Members of the ICPO, I am L." He pauses at the hum of whispers at his introduction, and begins again.

"The difficulty of this case lies in its unprecedented scope; it has more people involved, and more victims, than any other before it. But please make no mistake; we are witnessing an atrocious — and purposeful — act of mass murder, of which is absolutely unforgivable.

"I request the cooperation, assistance, and support of the ICPO, as well as the various organizations it represents. This is a large-scale serial murder case, that warrants large-scale police reinforcements. I request that you decide whether to fully support me and my work on this investigation at this conference.

"In addition, I strongly desire to work in particular with Japan and its National Police Agency."

Two men near the back of the room stand abruptly. L zooms the camera in closer on their faces, and lowers slowly to the nametags on the desks in front of them.

_Touta Matsuda. Soichiro Yagami._

_Yagami?_

His hand drifts to the name on his wrist, without giving it the permission to do so.

_Interesting._

"Why Japan?" Soichiro — Chief Yagami — asks, straightening his tie in a way L is almost positive — ninety-four percent — is subconscious.

_Nerves?_

"Regardless of whether these murders are the work of a group" — unlikely — "or of an individual, there is a strong possibility that they're Japanese. Even if the perpetrators are not Japanese, I am absolutely certain they are hiding in Japan."

"What grounds do you have for your claims?"

_Bold._

_Has your son inherited more than just his career choice from you, Yagami?_

"Why Japan? I think I can provide more than adequate proof after I directly confront the culprit."

_He will do it. I am certain._

"A direct confrontation?"

L ignores the question. "At any rate, I would like to set up a permanent headquarters in Japan for the remainder of this case."

Yagami nods, and he and his partner sit down.

_Soon, now._

 

\--

 

月

 

 

It takes Light no time at all to come to the conclusion Ryuk exists for three reasons; present the Death Note to him; eat all of his apples; and, most recently, to withhold important information that could royally fuck up  _everything_  if he's not careful.

It wasn't until Sayu was  _centimeters_  from actually touching the notebook that the Shinigami had decided to inform him that anyone who touched the Death Note could see and hear him, too.

Despite the last prickles of annoyance that have Light's hairs standing on edge, the recent modifications to his desk drawer have him feeling overwhelmingly confident. Ryuk munches obnoxiously on an apple and looks at him, curious, from his spot on the bed.

"That was easier than I thought it would be," Light comments casually, leaning back in his desk chair.

"You've found a hiding place?"

"In the drawer." He pats it gently.

"It's not particularly  _well_  hidden," Ryuk says, and Light is fairly certain the idiot is already picking up on human things like sarcasm and snark. He brushes the comment off and smiles.

"And you thought you got the notebook because you're  _smart_? The key's still in the lock, brainiac." The Shinigami lets out a grating laugh that only has Light smiling wider.

"That's the point. It's an obvious hiding place, so no one would expect it holds anything particularly important. But should anyone  _want_  to look in, then—" Light turns the key and opens the drawer, pulling out the decoy "—they'll find this."

"It's a regular diary," Ryuk points out.

 _A_ smart _one you are, Shinigami._

Ryuk had to have learned sarcasm somewhere.

"Most people will be satisfied with the secrets in this drawer after looking through it. But," Light takes a moment to look around for his favorite pen, and holds it up for Ryuk to see.

"This is the real key."

He continues as he begins unscrewing the pen. "There's nothing conspicuous about having this on my desk. It's just an average, ballpoint pen. I didn't even need to make any alterations to it." He momentarily discards everything but the ink cartridge, and again shows it to Ryuk.

"The key?"

"Yes. Come over here and look closely. If you look hard enough, there's a very small hole here on the bottom of the drawer. I put the ink cartridge in here, and—"

"Ah, it's got a false bottom. But you've got the decoy there, so I doubt anyone will look farther than that."

"But that's not all."

"Hm?"

Light takes the notebook out of it's hiding place and looks at it almost affectionately. "Suppose someone does  _find_  out there's a fake bottom. I've set it up so there's absolutely no way the notebook can be taken."

"You see," Light continues, "once the rubber ink cartridge is in place, it acts as an insulator between two metal conductors, stopping the flow of electricity through the circuit.  And when the fake bottom is closed, this little stopper here—" he points to it, "—acts as the insulator. But say someone forcefully took off the fake bottom.

"There would be no insulator to stop the electricity from moving, and in moments, the gasoline in these thin bags would ignite, setting both the perpetrator and the notebook — the  _only_  evidence — ablaze.

"And should that happen, I can say that I didn't want anyone to see the real diary." He smiles at his work, and places his chin in his hand casually. "It's a believable excuse; it  _is_  a notebook, after all."

"When humans get ahold of notebooks, generally the biggest problem is finding a good hiding place." Ryuk grins, stretching his lips wider over those jagged teeth of his. "But you've got everything all set, don't you, Light-o?"

Light preens silently — but proudly — under the praise until Ryuk speaks again.

"Though I have to say, it's a rather dangerous setup. Even a tiny mistake, and you've lost the notebook, your house, and maybe even your life."

"'Dangerous'? You're talking nonsense again. This whole thing — this quest, if you will — has been dangerous since I first touched the notebook. But don't you see, Ryuk? I'm meant to meet L Lawliet, and rid the world of criminals, and become God with Lawliet by my side. My mark  _confirms_  that. Have you ever heard of a soulmate mark burning? That has got to mean  _something_. To be honest, this little fire setup scares me less than just thinking about that day." He shudders at the memory of the burning.

"Yeah, Light-o, about that—"

" _Light_! Will you help me with my homework?"

Light doesn't miss the way Ryuk chuckles as he's interrupted, but he chalks it up to the Shinigami being foolish as he answers the door.

 

\--

 

News of someone passing judgment has already started.

_"It's amazing...bad guys just keep dying."_

_"It's a little scary, but it feels great."_

_"We can't do anything bad anymore."_

_"The police aren't behind it; they don't have that much power!"_

_"Don't you know about him?"_

_"About who?"_

_"Kira!"_

_"Kira?"_

_"Kira."_

The world knows of him, and already they are thinking before doing evil things.

It's  _amazing_.

Light's eyes dart back and forth from different websites, all created for and centered around Kira, while television coverage of the 'mysterious killings' plays quietly in the background. The Death Note rests on the desk next to his hand, and he runs a finger over it every few moments, tracing the light indents of the letters on the front.

_I am Kira._

"Ryuk, come look at this," he hums in a distracted tone of voice. He feels the Shinigami's presence behind him moments later.

"There are already dozens of websites like this, with more to come, I'm sure."

"'The Legend of Kira the Savior.' That's kind of cool. They're talking about you?"

"Yeah. It's 'Kira' from the English word 'killer'. It's not what I would have chosen, per-se, but. I'm 'Kira' to the world, now."

_I wonder what Lawliet thinks?_

_Amazed, I'm sure._

"Television and newspapers have only publicized the deaths as 'a shocking succession of heart attacks among the world's hardened criminals', but blogs and everywhere else on the internet have already caught on. It won't be long before the name 'Kira' is on every TV station.

"Kira is thriving online, where one can remain anonymous, but I guarantee less than a few weeks before larger, more public outcries of support begin. Someone is making the bad guys disappear. What isn't there to love?"

The television playing beside him blue screens, with a message scrolling across in white.

_This Scheduled Program will be interrupted for a Special Broadcast._

The blue changes to a young newscaster as he is handed a new script, not even looking into the camera as he reads.

"We interrupt this program to bring you a special, worldwide broadcast from the ICPO, Interpol."

"Hmm?" Ryuk asks, voicing Light's own thoughts.

 _Interpol_?

The screen changes  _again_ , to a young, well dressed man, sitting in front of the Interpol insignia. The obviously expensive suit he wears shows he means business. Light's eyes instinctively go from his face — angular, narrowed blue eyes, long, dark hair — to his nametag.

_Lind L. Tailor._

"I am Lind L. Tailor, the sole person able to mobilize the world's police; otherwise known as L." The man's gaze is stoic and serious, those icy blue eyes piercing even through a camera lens.

"Who is this?" Light wonders quietly, eyes intent on the screen.

"There have been a string of serial killings targeting the world's criminals. This is, in all actuality, the most atrocious act of murder in history, and it will not go unpunished. This murderer, commonly known as 'Kira', will be caught and executed, I promise. Kira, I  _will_  hunt you down and find you."

From beside Light, Ryuk snickers. "He said he'll  _definitely_  catch you, Light-o."

Light grins, the action nothing short of manic. "The fool. There's no way he can catch me." Gripping the notebook in his hands, he laughs.

"The hiding spot is perfect! If anyone  _were_  to find it, the only evidence would be destroyed! There's no way I can be convicted. I'm impossible to catch!" He slams two hands down on the desk and grins into the TV, into Lind L. Tailor's face.

"I knew the police would get involved, and that someone like you would get show up. But what are  _you_ , a supposed beacon of the justice system, going to do without any evidence?"

"Kira," Tailor replies, and Light rests back into his chair at the name, "I have a pretty good idea behind your motive and what you hope to achieve, and I can understand your reasoning and rationale behind it. But what you are doing is  _evil_!"

Light tenses.

Tailor grins.

 _No no I'm not evil I am good I'm not a murderer I am not evil_  you are.

Ryuk looks at him, looking both amused and wary.

"I'm evil?" he asks quietly to the television, then narrows his eyes.

"I am  _Justice_!" The chair crashes to the ground as Light hastily stands, bearing his teeth to the sneering  _L_ on screen. “I’m saving the meek and innocent and those who  _fear_ evil! I’m the one who will be God of the new, ideal world! And all those who oppose me?  _They are evil!_ ” He opens the notebook — gently, always gently with the Death Note — and plucks a pen from his small collection, grinning wickedly at the screen.

“You’re rather stupid, aren’t you, L? The  _sole person who can mobilize the entire world’s police_ , and you’re going to die your first time appearing on-screen. Pity. This could have been a  _lot_ more interesting, if only you were a bit smarter.”

Light stares at Tailor, taking in every detail of that God forsaken, ugly face as he takes his time writing the name. The pen scratches pleasantly against the crisp notebook paper, a sound that Light relishes as he draws out the last letter of Tailor’s name.

**_LIND L. TAILOR_ **

The script is messy, and far larger than the name on the preceding pages — Light manages to only twitch slightly at that — but it represents accurately how even the mightiest ( _ha!_ ) will fall, should they choose to.

Casting a glance to the digital clock nearby —  _twenty one seconds_ — Light laughs, but the sound is odd on his tongue and he stops.

“The world is watching to see what happens to anyone who defies me.” He looks to Ryuk and smiles. “I think they’ll quite enjoy the show, don’t you?”

The Shinigami snickers in response. Light looks to the clock again.

_Five._

_Four._

_Three._

_Two._

_On_ —

Tailor’s smile crumbles as he draws in a sharp breath, all remnants of composure and arrogance blown away as he begins to claw desperately at his chest. The man continues to gasp and shout as his breathing becomes labored, and Light will hand it to him, he manages to send one last positively  _lethal_ look — not as lethal as the heart attack, of course — into the camera before he falls forward, slamming his head onto the table before him. Two men appear on screen as they move to retrieve the corpse, and the brief glimpse of Tailor’s face the camera catches reveals wide open eyes with the blood vessels burst.

Instead of turning away, Light laughs. No longer even  _wanting_ to stifle the amused sounds bubbling inside his stomach, he lets them free, the delighted (neurotic?) giggles filling the room with a nasally, cracked melody that, while they sound odd and taste bad on his tongue, he’s having far too much fun to silence himself because  _L is dead_ and  _I am Kira_ and  _nothing can stop me_.

“What’s wrong?” he demands to the man as he’s pulled away. “Is there nothing left you’d like to say? Wouldn’t you like to tell me how  _evil_ I am, how you’ll catch me,  _L_ _—_ ”

Once more, the screen changes.

Light feels his own chest seize.

Against a grainy white background, a gothic  _L_ sits bolded in the middle, flickering slightly with static. The hum of white noise fills the room, and all is silent except for Light’s suddenly shallow breathing. Gently, he untucks the side of his shirt, and stares down at his torso.

_L Lawliet._

_L._

_L!_

“Shit, Light-o—”

_No._

“Unbelieveable.” The voice that fills the room is heavily filtered, hushed, and somewhat...shocked? “I had to check to be sure. Who would have thought you could have done this?”

 _Soulmate marks are the mark of two soulmates_ —

“Kira, it seems you can kill without being in the same room as the victim. I wouldn’t have believed it if I had not just seen it with my own eyes.”

 _The soulmate mark is a sign of true love_ —

“Listen to me, Kira. If you just killed the man on screen, Lind L. Tailor, you just killed a man who was scheduled to be executed today.”

 _Or deep friendship_ —

“It was not me.”

 _Or a deep, unparalleled bond between two people of any sort_ —

“Tailor was arrested in absolute secrecy, with no information of any sort released to general public about him. It seems even  _you_ could not get information on him.”

_Deep, unparalleled bond._

“He’s got you there,” Ryuk adds cheerfully, not-at-all hiding his snickering as Light continues to stare wide-eyed at the  _L_ on screen.

_Why has this happened?_

“But I assure you; I am L, I do exist! So come on, try and kill  _me_!”

“ _Bastard_ ,” Light snarls, yanking the pen off the desk and scrawling  _L LAWLIET_ across its own fresh page.

“Light-o—”

“ _Shut the_ fuck _up, Ryuk_ —!”

“What’s wrong, Kira? Do it quickly—!”

“ _Light,_ that won’t wor—”

“Be  _quiet!_ ” The notebook sails through the air, and Ryuk just barely has time to go immaterial before it’s upon him. It slams into the wall with a loud  _bang!,_ the pen following momentarily.

“C’mon, kill me! What’s the matter, can’t you do it?” L jeers, and even through the heavy voice filtration and his own ragged breaths, Light can sense the sheer sardonicism in his — L’s, his  _soulmate’s_ — voice.

“Well, well, it seems you can’t kill me after all, Kira.” Ryuk cackles in response, and Light feels his legs falter slightly underneath him. “So there  _are_ some people you can’t kill. You’ve given me quite the hint; I thank you.”

Light can almost visualise the sneer L must be wearing as he continues. “I’ll tell you something good in return. While this was announced as a live worldwide broadcast, I may have fibbed a bit. You see, this is currently only being aired in the Kanto region of Japan. Funny mistake, isn’t it, Kira?

“I had planned to broadcast this message at different times throughout the world, but...it seems you’ve made my job rather easy. I thank you for that Kira; you’ve saved me quite a bit of time and money.”

“This L guy is pretty good, no wonder he’s your soulmate, Light-o!” Ryuk comments jovially, poking at the first  _L_ on Light’s hip with a bony claw. Light roughly flinches away from the touch, but keeps his eyes on the screen.

“Your first victim was the hostage taker in Shinjuku, but the police discarded it as an unrelated incident; it was too minor for them to even consider. Of all the criminals who have recently died of heart attacks, Kurou Otoharada’s crime was the least serious. Furthermore, his crime was only ever broadcast in Japan.

Light’s eye twitches as L continues. “Based on all of this information, I have been able to deduce this much; you are in Japan — the Kanto region, specifically — and your first victim was little more than a guinea pig. I imagine you have not been killing for long, Kira. I’m curious as to how you do it.” L pauses, as if in thought. “Though I suppose my curiosity can remain unsated until I capture you.”

“I suppose you’re just lucky you are in Kanto, the most heavily populated region in Japan. To be completely honest, I never thought things would go quite so well.” A pause. “Let’s chat again soon, hm, Kira?” With that cheerful but vague conclusion, L disconnects, and the screen turns black.

Light shuts his eyes, stands up straight, and quietly goes to retrieve the notebook from it’s place on the floor. Cradling it gently in his arms, he sets it down as carefully as possible on the desk, and looks to Ryuk.

“He’s going to capture me, hmm? I suppose that would mean death, as well.”  _Calm. Stay calm._ “A pity he thinks I will give up so easily, isn’t it, Ryuk?”

Light taps his chin thoughtfully, eyes towards the sky. “Interesting. All right, L, I accept your challenge.” He hums contentedly and turns towards the notebook.

“I see now what this mark means, Ryuk. L Lawliet is not my soulmate; he is the person I will have the deepest, most unparalleled  _hatred_ with. A cynical twist on the soulmate mark, but. I have his name. All I need is to see his face and confirm his identity, and  _I win_.”

 _I am Justice, and I will_ win.

_Are you thinking the same, Lawliet?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't remember L being such a sarcastic little shit. and light being so violent.
> 
> whoops.
> 
> constructive criticism is appreciated. next update sometime next week (probably tuesday-thursday)
> 
> feel free to follow my tumblr; beyondbirhtday.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, my.
> 
> it's been quite a while, hasn't it?
> 
> i won't keep you here with a lengthy message at the beginning of the chapter, so i'll give you my mediocre excuses at the end.
> 
> ((note:: not beta'd or edited extensively, because i no longer have my subscription to my editor and the free version won't cooperate))

L

 

L works mechanically at a decadent strawberry shortcake as he pours just as diligently over the case files the NPA has gathered thus far. On another screen to his left, a live video and and audio feed of the Task Force fills the room with noise.

“Let’s start with the tip line reports first.”

_How horrible to waste time on things like that._

“We have so far received three thousand and twenty-nine responses from telephone calls, emails, etcetera. The majority were curious citizens, with most everything else comprised of prank calls and mentions of information already publicly available. Fourteen people claimed to have seen Kira, or to know him, but again, all information provided was available to the general populace. Regardless, fourteen files were created.” The man providing the report — Mogi — grimaces at the case reports in his hands. “And finally, this week there were an additional twenty-one people claiming to be Kira. Again, all cases were carefully followed up on and recorded.”

“Alright, thank you,” Yagami says quietly, rubbing his forehead against a headache. Another bite of strawberry shortcake finds its way into L’s mouth as the man calls for the victim reports.

“Sir.” A police officer with a name L does not care to know stands. “Upon further investigation, we have confirmed that information about the heart attack victims was publicly available in Japan directly prior to their deaths. Also...” The man casts a disdainful look in the direction of L’s webcam, and the man receiving the glare feels his lips curl up in response around the fork still dangling from his mouth.

“Concerning L’s request that we investigate the time of death for each victim...We found that all of them occurred between four in the afternoon until two in the morning Japan time, with sixty-eight percent of them occurring between eight in the evening and midnight.”

_Sixty-nine point six six seven percent, actually._

“Furthermore, weekends and holidays tend to be the exception to this rule, with times varying much more widely on these days.”

“That is extremely interesting, and very relevant to this investigation,” L says after a few moments, poking gently at a strawberry on his plate. “Judging by the times of death, the culprit may be a student.”

Director Yagami makes a noise L pegs as skepticism, and he continues. “I have other grounds for this belief. Drawing from the fact that Kira is only killing criminals, he’s probably driven by a very simplistic and ideal sense of justice. Such a black and white view of the world is naïvety at its finest, and an outlook that would be common on a school ground. I also believe Kira is striving to be a God of sorts; with the idea to take out the quote un-quote _evil_ in the world, and be worshipped in return. What a childish, pitiful mentality for a human being to possess.” The fork trapped between his thumb and forefinger stabs into the strawberry.

L is expecting the murmurs of dissent and disbelief, but regardless, they cause his the hairs on his neck to prickle in annoyance. “Of course,” he drawls for their sake, not wishing to argue what he is already fairly certain of — eighty-nine point eight nine nine — about, “this is just a mere possibility. But please dispose of the stereotype that no student could do this. It would not be the first time a minor has committed mass murder.” _Though, perhaps, not to quite this scale._

“Considering various possibilities, especially in a profound case like this, is the shortest route to apprehending Kira. Please, continue with your investigative report,” he concludes, finally retrieving the severed strawberry from his plate and popping it quietly into his mouth.

“Alright.” Yagami casts a glance around the room. “Has anyone else noticed anything?”

The asinine one, the one who attended the original ICPO meeting — Touta Matsuda — timidly raises his hand. “Um, yes, sir.”

“What is it, Matsuda?”

The younger man stands, nearly tripping over his chair as he tries to maneuver into a respectable position. Despite the silence — aside from the obnoxious _squeak_ of Matsuda’s chair across the tile floors — L can very nearly hear the whole room groan in anticipation of the young man opening his mouth again. L almost pities him.

Almost.

“Um...” he yanks awkwardly on his tie, “I’m in no way condoning Kira or his actions, but for the past few days worldwide, and especially in Japan, the number of violent crimes has dropped drastically.”

The men in the room are practically snoozing on Matsuda, and L can sense the anxiety in the younger man rise as the few _not_ ignoring whatever spills from his mouth send him ugly glares. Yagami only sighs and rubs at his temple.

“Well, I suppose that’s to be expected...Anything else?” Yagami keeps his voice light and gentle as he speaks to Matsuda, and L senses some sort of deeper connection between the two.

_File under look into later?_

“Uh, no, sir.” He plops ungracefully back into his chair, face red like the strawberry sauce on L’s plate. Speaking of, he needs a new slice.

He will have to wait for Watari to return.

“That about sums up our report for today. L?”

He places his thumb against his teeth, though stays careful not to muffle his voice. “Thank you, everyone. I feel as though we are closing in on the culprit.” _I suppose you’d all like lollipops and certificates of participation as well?_

_Quiet, Lawliet,_ he chides, and continues. “But before I go, I’d like to make one additional request. I want the teams investigating the victims, television news and internet to examine once more the exact ways the victim’s identities were made public. Do not spare any details. In particular, I would like to know if pictures of the victims were made available prior to their deaths. I leave it to you.”

L terminates the connection, and bites down on his nail.  He’d already checked the data - twice - but it never hurts to triple check, does it?

_Regardless, it should begin weeding out the weaker ones._

 

 

月

 

“Thank you, Onii-chan! I _knew_ I could count on you!”

“But you understand it now, right?”

“Of course!” The pearly white smile Sayu was sporting falters. “Well, I mean, kind of? Actually-” The sound of the front door shutting distracts her. “Dad’s home early, Light!” With the swiftness only a tiny teenage girl could muster, she stands from her seat and leaves the room in a flash. Light sighs, and looks over at Ryuk, who was lounging happily on the bed. His eye catches the barely-there dent on the wall from the previous night’s outburst, and feels himself grimace at the memory.

“At least figure out the last problem by yourself!” Light calls after her, but his voice lacks power and it shakes gently at the freshness of the Lind L Tailor incident in his mind.

_Stupid stupid stupid L I hate you you will rot I hate you I am not evil._

Ryuk hoists himself into a sitting position and flashes his teeth at Light in what his obviously the Shinigami’s attempt at a smirk.. “Helping your little sister with her homework, how sweet! Maybe you’re a good guy after all, Light-o!” He laughs. “Or maybe just arrogant. Having your sister right there with the fire trap still in your desk?”

“I’ve told you, that’s hardly a concern.” Light waves his hand, dismissing the subject, both the one aloud and the one in his mind. “And I wouldn’t call myself arrogant. I have plenty of reason to be _confident_ in my ability to evade capture.” Opening the door and stepping through the threshold, he peers down the stairs and finds his father there.

“Welcome home, Dad. How was your day?”

“It’s...good to be home,” the older man replies, gently toeing off his shoes and standing up straight, just as his wife calls the two of them in for dinner. Light doesn’t look, but he still feels Ryuk’s presence behind him as he walks and settles into his place.

It’s silent for several minutes until Soichiro looks up from his meal towards his son. “So, Light. How are your studies?”

_How mundane_ , the younger man catches himself thinking. He doesn’t bother looking up as he says quietly, “they’re fine.”

“Yeah _right_!” Sayu interrupts enthusiastically, beaming at her older brother. “He’s at the top of his class, being the genius he is!”

“That’s my son all right,” Sachiko agrees, smiling gently. Silences overtakes the room after that, and Light can’t help but be grateful the conversation has lapsed out.

_Can no one muster up a topic without putting us all to sleep?_

“How was work, Dad?” Light offers, eyes catching his father’s in an attempt to engage.

“I can’t say much,” Soichiro replies, meeting his son's eye contact. “The case I’m working on is very top secret, but I’ll admit it’s very difficult.”

Light doesn’t have an appropriate response to that, and the rest of the meal is covered in slightly tense silence, mostly due to the loaded opinions on both Light’s side and his father’s.

Light was certain, by now, that his father was working on the Kira case, even if he hadn’t outright stated it yet. That’s just the kind of person Soichiro was. His sense of justice had always been strong — he’d aspired to be a police officer all his life, to catch the bad guys — and Light had adopted his father’s ideals as his own. Unfortunately, it was to be expected that Soichiro would dislike Kira, and want him caught, but in the long run, it was contributing to both of their end goals — a just, perfect world — so in Light’s eyes, the ends justify the means, and he’s giving his father what he truly wants on the inside.

After dinner, Light makes his way to his bedroom, knowing he’s about to get an earful from Ryuk as soon as he shuts the door. Not really in the mood for amused snickering and another spiel from the Shinigami about being ‘arrogant’ (he was confident, and had every right to be so), Light ignored Ryuk as he walks through the threshold of his room, and get’s right to booting up his computer.

“Daddy’s a police officer, huh, Light-o?” Ryuk asks in a voice that drips dark pleasure, chuckling.

“I thought that was obvious, Ryuk,” he replies absentmindedly, clicking around and opening up a new window.

“Heh! That must be why you’re so confident.”

Light let's Ryuk’ words sit for a moment as he accesses the NPA’s database, and skims through the case files.

“I’ve learned enough about police work to hack into my Dad’s files without leaving a trace, so yes, I suppose you could call me confident.” He finds the timestamp for today’s investigative report. “I can keep track of everything the NPA documents all the time, from right here.”

Light’s eyes catch on the word ‘student’.

_Lawliet works quickly._ “How interesting. L already suspects a student.”

“No wonder he’s your soulmate, Light. He’s just as smart as you, if not smarter.” Ryuk pauses, and begins rummaging around his human’s room, most likely in search of a stray apple. “But don’t go getting caught too quickly. Than I’d have to kill you, because sitting in jail is boring. Heh.”

“But,” Ryuk continues after a moment, looking back towards Light with those _disgusting_ eyes, ever-present smile plastered on his face, “doesn’t that mean you’re in trouble? The police and L are already closing in.”

At the mention of L from an outside force, Light’s hand goes to rest on his hip, the words curled on his torso feeling tangible for a small moment. regaining his senses, he shakes his hand, and pulls his hand away.

“If the cause of death is written within forty seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen. If the cause of death is not _specified_ , the person will simply die of a heart attack. After writing the cause of death, details should be written in the next six minutes and forty seconds. Does that sound about right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“In other words, if I write ‘heart attack’ as the cause of death, than I _should_ be able to write down the circumstances and time of death, and it should happen.” Light smiles, a plan formulating.

“I think things are about to get a bit more entertaining for you, Ryuk.” **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a horrendously uneventful chapter. 
> 
> but i finally updated. i went to my mom's work, smelled the old people in the air, and i wrote. so, apologies if this isn't as inspired as you'd hoped my big coming-back-chapter would be. 
> 
> as i mentioned, i worked on a work computer. i still don't have a laptop, so i'm unsure of my current updating schedule. but this fic isn't abandoned, and i have no intentions to do so.
> 
> on a lighter note, all the nice messages in my comments and on tumblr and my ask box and from friends mean the world to me, and inspire me to write. so thank you so so much to anyone who took the time to give me kind words about this shitshow. it means the world and more to me.
> 
> and, oh my god, over 1,300 reads?! this thing had four chapters when that number was reached. FOUR. and i haven't updated for over a month. that's absolutely fantastic, and i might cry when i'm done typing this.
> 
> your support means everything, and even though this chapter is very filler-y and frankly very boring, i hope you enjoyed it some.
> 
> (and remember, comments + kudos fuel my ego, so those are very very welcome. i look at every one and screenshot them [i wish i was joking])
> 
> contact me on tumblr at: http://beyondbirhtday.tumblr.com/
> 
> :-)


	6. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kira kills people. L eats cake. light acquires a stalker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah. so.
> 
> it's been a while, huh?
> 
> my last update was...july 5th, 2015. over a year ago. 
> 
> whoops.
> 
> there's...really no excuse for my prolonged absence. my interests moved away from death note, i lost motivation, life turned bad? a lot of factors. but it was really just...one factor that urged me to pick this project back up.
> 
> i began rereading my favorite fic -- piece of literature, really -- of all time, and i realized that it hadn't updated in over a year. it broke my heart. so, on a note of nostalgia, i came back to my old ao3 account and found people still hoping, still commenting to this day. 
> 
> and i remembered how excited i was about this fic. how much i had planned out. so i came back, and brought a chapter with me.
> 
> despite the wait, i hope you enjoy. i'm glad to be back :)

**six**

L

_Another four...hm. Sixty-four percent that I lose another nine by Friday._

People die. Kira gains momentum. Officers remove themselves from the investigation.

_As expected._

Each day the officers remaining give L the tip line reports, the death reports, and anything L asks they focus on in particular. Each day, the resentful stares try to catch L’s gaze through his computer screen.

One day, the investigators realize that Kira is able to control the deaths of his victims. L hadn't even needed to tell them. He would've been almost impressed, had it not been for the fact that he'd puzzled that out himself nearly two weeks ago.

Regardless, it sends several of the remaining investigators over the edge. L finds himself not particularly caring about the letters of resignation that are placed in front of Yagami.

One of the men slams his arms against Yagami’s desk as he accuses L of something or other. L is too enraptured in the delectable chocolate mousse cake in front of him to pay too much attention.

“We’re out there constantly putting our lives at risk, while some people have the luxury of sitting behind a screen and using the rest of us like meat shields!”

How unpleasant an idea, a meat shield.

The men leave the room, Yagami’s exasperated sigh punctuating the tense air. Losing interest, L’s gaze fell back on the cake. Watari has really outdone himself on this one.

The meeting comes to a close not long after another round of men demand to be moved to another case, and more importantly, not long after L has finished off his cake. As Yagami and his remaining men pack up and shuffle awkwardly out of the room, L turns his attention to the pile of documents he’s been ignoring since the meeting began. He watches as Watari silently moves around, locks the doors, and comes to stand in front of the camera.

“All of the documents are here?” His free hand moves towards his plate, and he brings a thumb up to his mouth after he’s wiped the remaining chocolate off of his plate. He absently hopes the sucking sounds he makes as he’s cleaning his thumb don’t make their way through the microphone.

“Yes. The agents are already stationed and tailing their assignments, L.” If Watari notices, he doesn’t comment. He never does. L ruffles through the papers, looking for one name in particular.

Moon Yagami. Ah. Raye Penber’s first assignment. He’d made sure Moon was of the first investigated himself.

_141 officers with access to the Kira files. One of these officers, or someone very close to them,_ Moon’s picture floats to the forefront of L’s mind, _must be Kira._

_But what is_ your _connection to all of this, I wonder...?_

Just shy of one percent. Most likely negligible. But...

 

\--

 

月

The news that he’s being followed sets Light more on edge than he’d like to admit. Ever since L had pulled the television stunt — his hand reached for his side reflexively, his fingers twitching when they felt the emboldened text through his shirt — he’d been more antsy, more discomforted than he’d been in a long time.

Damn the name on his torso. _Damn it._ As much as it helped him, he had the easiest half of the equation needed to use the death note, it was infuriating. How could the universe make his _enemy_ his _soulmate?_ He’d never heard of something like that happening.

But at the same time...if someone were to break the rules of the soulmate bond, it _would_ be him. He has the death note, the Shinigami always looming, and he himself was becoming God of this world. If anyone was going to twist the rules of the soulmate mark, it was _him._

But...this stalker is an issue. A relatively small one, but regardless. It’s annoying suddenly having to be more careful than he already is. And Ryuk has the gall to be uncomfortable? Hm.

_Lawliet’s probably already suspecting the police at this point._ He quietly enters his house, tip-toeing up the stairs so as to not receive any sort of greeting from his mother or sister. _But why am I being investigated so preliminarily? Surely my father would be the one being investigated first._

His finger catches the light switch just so, the ‘click’ resounding gently throughout the room as the room brightens. The curtains on Lights’ windows block anyone from peering in at him from the outside, but he pulls them back the slightest bit to see if he can’t locate the mysterious person following him.

_Who are you?_ Light’s eyes graze all throughout the dark beyond his window, but he finds nothing, so he lets the curtain fall back.

_More importantly, how many of you are there?_

Surely, L would need a lot of people to investigate all of the people involved with the case — perhaps even upwards of fifty, if Lawliet was being especially extreme. But that doesn’t explain why he’s being tailed so soon; Light rubs at the words on his hip uncomfortably, wrinkling his shirt a bit.

_This is just a formality,_ the rational part of him begins, _Nothing to be suspicious about. I am simply a high school student. I will appear as nothing but that._

Despite his low chance of being actually suspicious to Lawliet, Light knows well enough that allowing this person to follow him for any long period of time is dangerous, and could potentially put him on the radar if he happens to catch anything...unsightly.

Perhaps a sacrifice towards Kira’s greater good is in order, then.

“Light-o,” Ryuk calls from where he’s splayed out on his human's’ bed, his voice uncharacteristically serious despite that damn pet name. “There’s something I should probably tell you about.”

“What is it, a new rule? ‘If the owner does not bring his Shinigami an apple every ten hours, the human shall die’? I think I’ll pass.” Ryuk’s remarks to him today had consisted of whining about a lack of apples and, of course, telling him about the stalker; but Light was doubtful his Shinigami would have anything else on the level of importance the stalker was on to say.

“You’re gonna wanna hear this,” Ryuk responds, ignoring Light’s dismissal entirely. Light’s eyes turn away from his Shinigami, ready to ignore him again. “I’ll get straight to the point, then. I can offer you a deal that will allow you to know the name of any human you come across.”

Eyes widening at the admission, Light spins in his chair to look at Ryuk. “Is that so?”

The Shinigami laughs rather unpleasantly. “Yup. And their lifespan, though that’s really only important to me, heh.” Ryuk ambles towards Light, only stopping when his pointed teeth are mere centimeters away from touching Light’s cheek. He shudders at the thought, but stays focused.

“If I wrote your name in the death note right now, I’d have—Wait, I’m not supposed to tell you that.” Ryuk grins wider, apparently unbothered by his almost-slip. “I’d have whatever years you have left added to my own lifespan. And I could do it without even having to have spoken to you, because of the name floating above your head.

“You could do it too — Not have an increased lifespan; no, only Shinigami can do that — but you could know the name of any person whose face you see. All you have to do is give me half of your remaining lifespan.”

Light falters at that. “Half of my remaining life?”

“Right-o, Light-o,” Ryuk chuckles, voice still dark, “If you had fifty years left, you’d have twenty-five. One year, six months.”

“You’ve made it clear you’re not on my side. I couldn’t just borrow your powers; I’d have to pay for them.”

Ryuk’s face stretches into a malevolent smile that looks like it hurts. “Correct. So? Do we have a deal?”

Light grins back, his own smile reflecting Ryuk’s in malevolence. “Absolutely not.”

“Hm?”

“My use of the death note is to create a perfect world with no criminals or evildoers. Additionally, I will reign as God in this world after I’ve cleansed it.” He runs a hand through his hair, absently letting his fingers prod at his eyelids. “Dying prematurely is not a part of that plan. It’s simple enough to get the names of criminals as I do now.

“And, I already have the name of my worst enemy on my body. I have no logical use for the eyes, if I already have his name.” Light’s teeth grit against saying his name. _Lawliet,_ he hisses internally, not wanting the poisonous taste saying the name leaves to coat his mouth.

“Fine, fine,” the Shinigami replies dismissively, settling back onto Light’s bed. “I just didn’t want you complaining I didn’t tell you earlier.”

Light snorts, flushing red immediately after. “Hm. You call telling me now _early?_ If you’d wanted to be early, you would have told me when you met me. Or better yet, written it in the rules.”

Ryuk shrugs, and Light goes to retrieve the notebook from his little trap. He’s grateful for the silence the Shinigami lets fill the room; hearing him talk for too long gives Light a headache.

_What an unpleasant voice,_ Light thinks absently as he begins flipping through the pages, skimming over his handiwork. He finds himself pleased at the neat, even twenty pages he has filled with names.

“Anything else you’d like to let me know ‘early’?” His eyes travel to the inner pages of the book, rereading the rules again as he waits for an answer.

“Are you ever gonna get over that?” The Shinigami sounds disgruntled in the same way he is when Light can’t constantly give him apples to shove down his throat, or when he starts whining about being bored. “But no, I have nothing else to say to you about it.”

Light blinks in surprise as his eyes scan over a particular rule. “I’ve got it!” The quiet _boom_ the notebook gives as he snaps it shut punctuates the end of his sentence.

“What?” _So much for not having anything else to say._

“I know now how to find out the name of my stalker, using the rules of the notebook to my advantage.” Light turns on his computer monitor, rummaging for a pen as he waits for the screen to load. “Now I just need to test the death note’s limits.”

 

\--

 

L

L is in the middle of testing just how many boiled sweets he can fit in his mouth at once when Yagami receives a call.

“Six inmates, all heart attacks?!”

_Why is Yagami so surprised? He’s more than aware of the death toll Kira is turning out._

“What?” Yagami’s indignant yell briefly surprises L, and he takes a moment to concentrate as he swallows the boiled candies in his mouth. When they’ve gone down, he turns his full attention to Yagami’s phone conversation.

“Three exhibited bizarre behavior? What do you mean?”

_That’s certainly new._

“A what? — Matsuda, write this down — one drew a pentagram in his own blood, you say? What else?” A pause. “A note and an escapee, who also died of heart attacks. Right. Okay.”

Watari’s hooded figure comes in focus on L’s screen. “I’ve just received the images from the scene. L?”

“Send them.”

Three picture files appear on his screen, visualising what Yagami just recited; a messy pentagram, much larger than L initially thought, — _how much blood did he have to use?_ — a photo of a man collapsed in a bathroom, and a picture of the apparent suicide note.

_Hardly a suicide._

His eyes scan through the note quickly; all the messy scrawl really held was a few words detailing the inmate’s apparent fear of Kira. Something, in light of recent events, that could feasibly happen.

But.

_Kira can control a person’s time of death. With this in mind, it is reasonable to assume that Kira may also be able to control the circumstances surrounding a death as well._

“Chief.”

Yagami jumps to attention, sending his chair skidding backward a few meters in surprise. “Don’t inform the media of the special circumstances around the three. Report that all six simply died of heart attacks.” He crunches a sugar cube in his teeth, letting the grainy texture coat his tongue before continuing. “I believe Kira may have been performing a test of sorts, and we would simply be giving him the answer, if my theory is correct.” _Eighty one percent._

“Of course, L.”

_What is it you’re planning, Kira?_

He’s not certain he’s not just imagining it, but L feels his soulmate mark begin to itch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> despite pretty much nothing happening, i hope it's a decent comeback. expect an update...at some point. 
> 
> again, thank you to all who continued to support this story through my absence. your support is everything :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *dabs* merry christmas here's an update in which nothing really happens.
> 
> light goes on a date with a boy. it goes about as well as you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when i said i'd give this fic more regular updates? haha whoops. sorry for another near two-month absence. shit happens.
> 
> (side note, if you're into ace attorney, i'm working on a hogwarts au that's gonna be LIT. so if that's something that interests you, keep your eyes pealed for the next stretch of time).

月

In the morning before his plan is supposed to go into action, Light finds himself loathing the soulmate marks.

_Oh, Light ... I know who my soulmate is, you know ... It wouldn’t be proper for me to go on a date with you! ... What if I saw my soulmate there? It would be so awkward._

“Damn it.” Light tosses his phone onto his bed in annoyance, running a hand through his hair and undoubtedly messing it up.

_Shit._ “I need to be at the bus station soon, I don’t have time for this, _damn it,”_ he says aloud to himself, beginning to pace the length of his room. How could all of the girls who fawned over him in the halls _turn him down for a date?_

It wasn’t as if Light didn’t have plenty of people interested; he _sees_ the looks he gets in the halls, _hears_ the whispers as he breezes through the school, _notices_ the way the girls look at him when talking about whatever vulgar drivel they’d written on the insides of stalls in the girls’ bathrooms. There was certainly interest, so _why_ wasn’t he getting any response?

Of course the girls were only sensible when he was relying on their gross desperation. _Damn it._

“No girls interested, Light-o?” Ryuk snickers at his human as he enters the room through a random point in the wall. Light’s withering glare isn’t lost on the Shinigami, but it has no effect. “Perhaps you should start asking the boys out? That seems more your crowd, anyway.”

The implications of Ryuk’s statement cause Light to bristle, but it still has some merit. Light was getting desperate; it was absolutely imperative that he had a companion of some kind on his bus journey. And anyways, why did a trip to Spaceland have to be a romantic affair at all?

Light knows he’s kidding himself, but retrieves his phone regardless, a name already in mind as he’s entering the digits.

“Hey, Yamamoto...”

 

\--

 

Light has his attentions on a man, but it isn’t the one he has an arm around.

Yamamoto, a good friend of Light’s, had insisted upon receiving “the official real-deal Light Yagami date treatment,” which apparently included being all...wrapped up in Light. And it was mortifying, it was ridiculous what he was doing, but Yamamoto would have said no if his request hadn’t been indulged. 

Light just doesn’t have the _time_ to refuse, is all.

Light’s face is still burning crimson as he and Yamamoto board the bus. He casts a glance backward, and sees that the FBI agent is still tailing him. Good. At least this embarrassment would be worth it.

Light and Yamamoto settle near the back of the bus, Light shifting his arm so they both comfortably fit in the seat. Behind him, Ryuk was laughing quite viciously.

“Took my advice, eh, Light-o? Told you it was more your style!” 

Internally, Light is seething; outwardly, he allows Yamamoto to hold his hand.

This is _ridiculous._

“You sure know how to treat a lady, Light!” Yamamoto giggles incessantly as he tangles his fingers with Lights’ and plops both of their hands in his lap. “Gosh, we’re only on the bus ride to the date and I’m already swooning!” 

“As much as your boyfriend seems to think it is,” Ryuk begins just as Lights’ stalker is stepping onto the bus, “this isn’t just a normal date, is it? You said you figured out a way to find out his name.” Ryuk jabs a finger at the stalker as he strides to the back of the bus and takes the seat directly behind Light and Yamamoto.

_Subtle._

The eyes on the back of his neck make Light uncomfortable, amplified by the fact that he still had an arm around another boy and the same boys’ hand folded against his. Light’s ears catch the faint sound of pen on paper and, really, is the man taking notes on _this_ of all things?

“So, what do you want to do when we get to Space Land?” Yamamoto asks conversationally, surveying the hands in his lap with a sort of curiosity and something distinctly separate from that Light can’t quite place. “I’ve been more times than you have, so you can choose if you want.”

As Light shifts slightly to meet his friends’ eye, he takes the opportunity to cast a glance at the man behind him, who’s doing a fairly decent job at looking like he’s not listening when he really is. A smile touches his face as he meets the pair of eyes next to him. “Whatever you’d like. I have no preference.”

He lets Yamamoto jabber on about his favorite attractions at Space Land, and lets the majority of his attention that isn’t necessary to listen along turn to counting the stops until things get set into action. 

Roughly fifteen minutes into the ride, the eighth and final passenger steps into the bus, removes his hand from his pocket and points the gun at the driver's head, causing the whole vehicle to collapse into an uproar of screams.

Here we go.

Yamamoto’s grip on Light’s hand tightens, but he still attempts to keep up a facade of casualness that doesn’t really fool anybody. “Haha, today of all days, h-huh?” The shake in his voice is prominent, and on a whim Light decides to play the comforting boyfriend and let Yamamoto bury his head into his jacket.

“You all better just shut up and sit still or I’ll put a bullet in you!” To prove his point, the gunman takes his weapon away from the driver’s head and instead points it at the rest of the passengers, before pushing it back against the driver’s temple.

“Now you,” the gunman says darkly, pressing the barrel harder into the man’s flesh, “call Space Land’s head offices. Tell ‘em what’s goin’ on, but don’t try anything funny, you hear me?”

The driver scrambles for his phone and immediately begins babbling into the mic, spilling all of the details the gunman spits at him from the other end of the gun. Eventually the phone is wrenched from his hands, and the gunman begins telling the orders to the person on the other end of the line himself.

“I want a female employee to bring all of Space Land’s profits two stops away from the park. Get there before us or I’ll kill a passenger for every minute late you are!” He slams the phone against the floor of the bus and crushes it beneath his foot for good measure.

Light glances down at Yamamoto, whose head he’s lifted to look at the hijacker with wide eyes. Squeezing his hand to get his attention, Light removes an arm from around Yamamoto and retrieves a piece of the notebook out of his jacket pocket and holds it so Yamamoto -- and, more importantly, the stalker -- can see it, before saying, “Don’t worry too much. I’ll look for the chance to grab his hand and disarm him.”

Immediately, his stalker has something to say. “That’s dangerous. Don’t be stupid. If it has to come to that, I’ll do it.”

His stalker’s breath on his ear is uncomfortable and makes Light squirm, earning a side glance from Yamamoto, who Light assumes pins it on the nerves and looks down at their hands. Light pulls out a pen and begins writing, to which his stalker tells him, “We don’t have to pass notes. As long as we keep our voices down, he won’t be able to hear us over the sound of the bus.”

Light pushes the paper back into his pocket and shares a look with Yamamoto. “Do you have any proof that you’re not his accomplice?”

Both Light’s stalker and Yamamoto respond with sounds of surprise. “Do you think he is?” Yamamoto asks with a hushed whisper, eyes shifting back nervously. 

“He could be,” Light replies, making sure his stalker can hear him over the sound of the bus. “Sometimes bus jackers have someone sit in the back to keep the passengers from trying to regain control. The hijacker pretends he’s alone but he really has someone keeping watch of the passengers without arousing suspicion.”

A finger brushes against his shoulder and Light has to suppress a flinch as he turns and meets the man’s eyes. In his hand is a badge. Light immediately stores the name on the badge -- Raye Penber -- into his memory and takes a moment to indulge on the name written across Penber’s thumb.

_Naomi Misora._ Hm.

Glancing back at the badge, Light’s eyes imperceptibly widen as he grazes across the FBI insignia. 

Lawliet hired _the FBI_ to find Kira? 

“I trust you,” Light tells Penber, who takes back his badge after a few moments. “And I won’t ask why an FBI agent is on the bus right now.” He pauses, surveying the hijacker briefly.

“Do you have a gun?”

“Yes, I do.”

The hijacker clambers forward a few steps to swing his gun in an old woman’s direction and threaten her if she doesn’t stop crying. Penber tenses in the seat behind Light. “If it comes down to it, you can rely on me to take care of this.”

As the hijacker’s eyes shift to the back of the bus, Light lets the piece of notebook paper fall out of his pocket. He feigns a surprised breath and reaches down to pick it up as the hijacker lets out a yell and runs forward, ripping it from his hand. 

“Passing notes are we, you little brat?” Light finds himself staring into the barrel of the gun as the hijacker reads through the note, then laughs. The gun doesn’t leave its position in front of his eyes. “Plans for a date to Spaceland with your boyfriend? Ha! Queers.”

Light bristles, but remains silent, eyes cast towards his feet. The gun finally retreats as its owner begins screaming about the monster in the back of the bus.

“What the fuck?!” he demands, eyes locked on Ryuk with his gun shaking in his hand. “When the hell did you get here? What are you?!”

“You can see me?” Ryuk asks conversationally, if a bit surprised, and Light hears the jingling of the chains around Ryuk’s waist as he shifts forward. “Light, you dropped a piece of the notebook, didn’t you? How clever!”

“I’ll shoot you, you monster!”

_“Everybody get down!”_

Penber’s arms press on the back of Light and Yamamoto’s heads, forcing them to hide behind the seat as the hijacker begins shooting wildly at Ryuk. A total of eight gunshots ring through the air, Ryuk’s laugh crescendoing higher and louder until it drowns out all other noise on the bus.

The hijacker screams once, long and loud, before rushing to the other end of the bus, demanding the driver _stop the fucking bus!_ and rushing out into the street.  
Light barely has the time to lift his head and glance out the window before the car comes hurtling down the street and crashes headlong into the hijacker. 

The blood that splatters the hood of the vehicle and begins running down the road is satisfying, and Light can’t tear his eyes away until Yamamoto squeezes his hand so hard it hurts and begs to just go home.

_Kiichiro Osoreda. Accidental death. 11:45 am. Just as planned._

Light's smiling as he leaves the bus hand in hand with Yamamoto, pleased with the success of his date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weee nothing happens. merry christmas.
> 
> next chapter we get to see from a new pov so that's exciting.


End file.
